


A Waltz Among The Stars

by paulmcfartney



Category: McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles
Genre: M/M, McLennon, Paris - Freeform, The One Where They Do The Fucking Jig, dance they would dance, john a.k.a. jack dawson from titanic, just kidding this is actually kinda cute i think, really proud of this one boy-o's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 08:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13337697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulmcfartney/pseuds/paulmcfartney
Summary: i used 'unchained melody' by the righteous brothers as the song they listen to on the radio. the song wasn't released by them until 1965 but the police can't stop me.





	A Waltz Among The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> i used 'unchained melody' by the righteous brothers as the song they listen to on the radio. the song wasn't released by them until 1965 but the police can't stop me.

_Whoa, my love_  
My darling  
I've hungered for your touch  
A long, lonely time 

His eyes flickered toward the man on the balcony after hearing the first few words of the song float quietly from the speakers of the radio. He stood outside smoking, a hazy white cloud of smoke left his unseen lips, as his back was towards him. John sat on the bed, back pressed up against the gaudy floral wallpaper and knees pulled halfway up towards his chest, creating a makeshift desk for the notebook he held so near and dear to him. On the tattered paper was Paul's dim silhouette, shaded by the moon that he now faced, which shone only partly behind the red brick building next to their hotel. John made sure to only include the full moon and the starry night surrounding him, wanting to remember only the sheer beauty he was trying to so delicately capture with the short, black pencil in his hand. His legs were crossed as he leaned casually against the rusted railing on his elbows, occasionally lifting up an exposed arm to take a short drag from the cigarette placed daintily between his fingers. He'd captured the slight curve of his petite waist, which was tucked snugly under the black trousers that seemed to hug every bit of his legs in just the right way. His shoulders were pulled back, relaxed as he took another puff. John could imagine the small cloud of smoke leaving his lips in a way that seemed almost sensual, his plump mouth parting in a perfect 'o' shape to release the puff into the atmosphere. The man in front of him moved so that his hip curved to the opposite side to shift his weight onto his right foot. His cigarette dangled between between his two fingers, which were relaxed hanging over the railing. The gentle breeze had seemingly picked up a bit, as the hair springing from the top of his head curled with the wind. John found his heart bursting at the sight, completely mesmerised at the very shape of his body in the silvery glow of the moonlight.

_Are you still mine?_

Pushing himself off of the painfully squeaky bed, John followed the glowing stripes of light along the carpeted floor and padded over towards the opened door. His sock-covered toes were icy, as the yearly October chill was beginning to set in even in Paris. The music drifting from inside the hotel room was slightly more faint now as he reached a hand out to tug at Paul's hairy arm, making him turn around and face him with a sleepy smile, knowing. Stamping out his cigarette under his shoe, he followed John inside, kicking them off his feet and tossing them somewhere into the shadows. They stood apart for a moment, studying the other with dreamy gazes, both men taking in the sight of the other. Paul's raven black hair was combed down in their newest hairstyle they'd gotten in Hamburg, but it was ruffled by the ever-persistent autumn wind. John's wide eyes fell to the shape of his bowed lips, the thought of how maddeningly soft they always felt whenever they grazed his skin overwhelming his mind to the point that he nearly couldn't think straight for the time being. His eyebrows were arched high as usual, and his eyes--Jesus Christ, his eyes--were wider than normal, but still possessed that warm, kind quality that nearly always drove John over the edge. The man singing on the radio sang louder in the background, the music flooding their ears and their senses as Paul crept towards John, bare feet brushing against the curls of the thin carpeting.

_I need your love_  
I need your love  
God speed your love to me 

They met in the center of the small room, the tranquil atmosphere slowing their raging heartbeats down to a steady rhythmic thump as the tips of their fingers grazed together at their sides between them. Their fingers tangled together almost out of instinct, being so used to the feeling of the other. Paul's thumb on each hand stroked over his knuckles excruciatingly slowly, as if he wanted to even dissolve into John. He was taken aback when Paul lifted one of them to his soft mouth and touched his knuckles to his lips, nudging the ball of his nose into the same spot before kissing there again. John had nearly melted into a puddle at this point, and he was shocked that he was even still standing at the sheer happiness that had overcame him. "You have the most exquisite hands," Paul muttered lowly into his fingers, touching his warm lips to them again before bringing them to rest between them once more. John's gaze flickered down to the palms sliding delicately up the sides of his arms, losing sight of them whenever they smoothed over the thin, white material of his shirt covering his shoulders, and cupped either side of his neck. Paul seemed to be gleaming, a heavenly sort of halo shaping his frame, eyes as radiant as the glow of the stars behind him. John's fingers crept over the small swell of his hips before settling them to hold his waist tenderly, being gentle as if he were an expensive piece of fine china. Their hips began to sway leisurely to the slow tempo of the triplets in the beat. Although they both knew that there would be plenty more moments just like this in the future, a pang of sadness found its way into John's chest from deep down. He knew that they were genuinely happy, content and at ease with their relationship, cheerful kisses and tender moments that they'd shared would always be remembered and cherished. But the fact that they couldn't fully share their immense love for each other with anyone was almost painful in a way. Why something so basic as loving another human being was frowned upon was completely beyond him. Someday in the very very distant future, he could even picture them still together, rings exchanged and vows repeated sometime still far off. He'd never admitted it to Paul, as he was deeply troubled by his silly thoughts and dreams of an uncertain future. Hopefully, he thought, England will lose the stick that had been evidently shoved up its tight arse and come to realize how incredibly ridiculous its law was. Drooping eyes brought him out of his thoughts, Paul staring intently, wanting desperately to know what had been going through the man's mind. The moment seemed surreal again, like they were both in the middle of some incredibly lovely dream that you'd never want to wake up from. The light breeze snuck past the doorway to the balcony to whisper in their ears and wisp through the straying strands of hair.

_Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea  
To the open arms of the sea_

Paul leaned forward the slightest bit so that the curves of their cheeks would brush past each other, the tiny bit of stubble that had broken out on John feeling scratchy against Paul's porcelain skin. Their feet swept them in slow circles around the carpet, swinging cautiously, as either man was equally nervous about accidentally tramping on the other's toes. John savored the feeling of Paul's cool breath ghosting over his neck and falling down the loose collar of his shirt, making him close his eyes and shiver against the other man. He could hear a soft giggle erupt from Paul's plump lips as he slid an unhurried hand from the back of John's neck upwards to rest where the man's hair was longer and thicker. His fingers ran through the auburn locks at a slow pace, causing John to only pull their chests closer together. His eyes involuntarily shut once again, wanting nothing more than to feel only his best mate, lover, pressed up so tightly against him. It was moments like these that John continued on for. He knew that there was no one else on the face of this wretched planet--not even Cyn, as terrible as it sounded even in his own head--that he'd want in Paul's place. Loving Paul was something else, something almost indescribable. It was like the feeling you get when you finally find that missing piece to the puzzle you've been working on all week, like watching the moon transition into the rising sun in the wee hours of the morning, like the clouds opening up and rays of sunshine lighting their way through the open part, all that sappy shit. Although it's similar to all of those things, nothing could match the jelly-like feeling in the pit of his stomach when Paul did so much as glance at him. And when he touched him--dear God--it felt almost as if universes were colliding and the stars were glimmering brighter than they ever have in all of time, like an eternal euphoria. John was once again brought back to reality by the strangely distant sound of the man on the radio crooning in the corner. The hands John had placed chastely on Paul's waist wove around to the small of his back and played with the hem of his trousers, tugging upwards lightly with his thumbs wrapped around the unused belt loops. Paul hummed appreciatively in his ear and placed an excruciatingly gentle kiss on his jawline.

_Whoa, my love_  
My darling  
I've hungered, hungered for your touch  
A long, lonely time 

Nudging his angled nose into the warmth of Paul's neck, John shut his eyes and just listened; listened to the serene music that had gradually gotten louder to reach its climax, to the almost unnoticeable sputtering of an engine starting somewhere in the dark street below. None of that mattered to him, as John was focusing himself intently on the pleasant hum of Paul's breathing in his ear. His mind wandered momentarily, John silently not believing how the hell he managed to turn so incredibly soft so fast for James Paul McCartney. The thought only made him pull the man impossibly closer to him, wanting nothing more than for Paul to just melt into him so that they could stay like this until the end of time.

_I need your love_  
I need your love  
God speed your love to me 

The final strong chord of the song rang out in the otherwise quiet room until the radio went completely silent, as the program probably ended since it was growing late. The little room suddenly grew dark and desolate in the new silence that hung over them, other than the light breeze that was still nipping at their exposed necks. The swaying of their hips back and forth never ceased, as either man silently wished that they could stay wrapped up like this in the comfort of the other's warm embrace for all eternity. Paul made up for the loss of music and began to hum a soft, unrecognizable tune in John's ear, fingers still combing through the roots of his hair in earnest. The moon shone bright through the still open doorway and cast their tall shadow against the carpet, which John had just noticed now. He made a mental note, telling himself that he'd someday have to sketch out this scene for him and Paul to cherish. John could picture them from another angle, wrapped up in the tangle of their warm limbs, hearts thrumming together in a calm, steady rhythm, their heads side by side and occasionally bumping against each other in time with their loose hips. He couldn't help but smile at the image that he held in his mind.

It had to be at least ten minutes after the song had initially ended that Paul, much to John's displeasure, stopped humming into the shell of his ear. His hips ceased all movement, as did John's after he realized that he'd suddenly stopped, and they stood there in the silence of the clear night, encased in their little bubble and closed off from the rest of the hectic world. Neither man moved for a moment, holding one another in their tight embrace, basking in the moonlight and the cool midnight air drifting into their room. John had that certain feeling in the pit of his stomach, that almost indefinable surge of intense emotion that he felt nearly everytime he was around him.

He pulled away from Paul's head so that he was merely centimeters away from the rounded tip of his nose. Paul's eyes gave him a sense of relaxation, the notion that the stars were aligned and that everything was alright in the world. But God, was he stunning, silky dark hair feathered off to the side from the wind, chestnut eyes tired and drooping as they were before, and John couldn't help himself even if he tried. So he kissed him, almond eyes immediately fluttering closed at the feeling of Paul's warm lips finally covering his thin ones like a cozy blanket. In a flurry of soft kisses and tiny, almost held back whimpers, their shirts were pulled over their heads before landing with a squeaky thump on the mattress, and, well--you know the rest.

Paul awoke the next morning to the sound of a very persistent car horn outside, much to his annoyance. Grumbling, he rose from his spot against the wall on the tiny twin-sized bed and rubbed his sleep-coated eyes, realizing that John's naked form was no longer curled up next to him in a deep slumber. Other than him, the bed was empty, the sun streaming through the door to the balcony that neither bothered to close. Smirking, he thought of the show that they must have given the apartment with the large window across the street the night before, and threw his bare legs over the side of the bed.

John was nowhere to be found as the man peered around the small room. He noticed a small folded paper on the nightstand that read 'My Dearest Paulie,' in John's signature scrawly hand. Unfolding it, his heart was bursting, as the paper had unnoticeably been two separate drawings. The first one was a portrait of his darkened silhouette against the moonlight, and he wondered, blushing, how John had managed to make his behind look so good. The other was completely different, showing their two figures tangled together, swaying to the gentle beat of that wonderful song that had played on the radio the night before. It was adorable, as John had even scribbled little music notes drifting from the nearby radio. At the bottom of the paper read 'Kiss me 'til the night runs out,' in his scratched handwriting. Paul ran his fingers over the line delicately in awe, careful not to smear anything. Heart swelling, he held both portraits close to his bare chest and smiled goofily, feeling as giddy as an innocent schoolgirl who's just been kissed for the very first time. And when John returned, the mischievous grin on his face even wider than usual, Paul ravished him, touching and kissing and taking all that the other would offer. They danced every night after that, swirling around in their modest little hotel room in the heart of the city of love itself, silently swaying and whispering sweet nothings into the welcoming darkness.


End file.
